An Open Letter To Boys

What’s going on?

Seriously, have you guys been meeting to try and conjure up new plans and ways to be mean and cause girls confusion? I’ve long suspected there’s been a Boys Club where you discuss how sniffing a shirt is a good way to tell if it’s wearable for another couple of days or where you come up with new curse phrases to hurl at the TV while watching sport. Or where you decide to make a pact to all agree that a TV show is ah-mazing and stick to that notion despite evidence to the contrary (Two and a Half Men anyone?!).


A couple of things have happened recently to have my muttering WTF (and I don’t mean Why The Face). A little while ago a friend of mine went on date. She is one of my besties so I may be impartial to this description of her but it’s pretty accurate. She is a redhead with almost-porcelain skin and long legs and thighs that don’t touch (lucky whore). This was promptly ignored by the guy she was on a date with. Instead it was blatantly put out there that he’d prefer if she was a blonde, because you know he’s used to dating models and blonde princesses. He’s not btw, he’s just being douche. Now while you’re perfectly entitled to an opinion of that type, perhaps keeping it inside or rather just sharing it with your bros is better than over sushi.

Normally something like that would invoke a couple of four-letter words, you know, solidarity and the whole Ya-Ya-Sisterhood thing but it wasn’t as harsh as say the thing that recently happened to me. I recently met a boy and we’ve been sorta dating and having adult sleepovers for a couple of months now. Not serious unless compared to a Kardashian marriage but still more than casual fling. You’d think when it fizzled out and one of us had to make the call, it would be done in the right fashion, face-to-face. Not over Blackberry Messenger. Oh yes, not even a text that cost money. A free messaging service. And instead of being relieved that I wasn’t going to be the bad guy who had to it, I was pissed off I was not worth more than a BBM message. God help me if he had used an emoticon.

I know we’re living with a technological advanced world but surely some decorum still exists. If it had been a one-date thing I’d totally excuse the uncouth manner but this was a little more. Although not ideal, even a phone call would suffice. Or at least a delivery note attached to a box of cupcakes. Which I think is actually the best way to do it. While you’ll be sad reading the note, at least there’ll be something to cheer you up.

Being wounded I thought that was pretty harsh that was until I was told this gem.
A friend of mine was dumped by text.
On the dancefloor.
While the ex was next to her, dancing.
Boys, I can’t even.
There are no words.
Just don’t!

So Boys, next time you’re at your secret club and discussing how great 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner is, perhaps you could reconsider some of your moves.
Thanks, and we still love you.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

Dear Future Boyfriend, Part Eight

I’ve prepared for you to come into my life and shake up my mundane life like in Pleasantville where they discover dirty things and life changes from black and white to full-on colour. I cannot wait for that time. But I realise you may not have planned for me to enter your life. Yes, I know we’re meant to be and we complete each other but in all honestly, sharing your life, even if it’s your soul-mate can be an adjustment.

When we meet I’m kinda hoping we go straight to the honeymoon phase. And when we eventually decide to move in together (as a trial for our perfect marriage), it’s going to be “christening” the flat in every available yet comfortable surface and giggling while we unpack boxes and covering each other’s noses in toxic paint like a stock photo. What I don’t want is our crazy habits and mannerisms to get in the way so we become that awkward couple no one can bare to be around.

you and me in our first place. if i get really skinny and dye my hair and grow. but you get the gist.

To alleviate some tensions now, I’ve decided to jot down a few things I’m good at and some I’m very bad at. Just so you know, you can prepare and stuff. And in case you’re wondering, yes, being considerate is one I’m very good at. You’re welcome!

Things I’m good at:

- Pop culture references. These skills not only make my banter witty but also help when faced with the Film and Television category at pub quizzes.
- Kissing.

just the natural state of my lips. always ready for a make-out session.

- Cleaning. Not crazy obsessive but a little crazy. You’re allowed to have drinks without coasters and I won’t freak out if the dishes aren’t done. A week later I might say something though.
- Butter chicken. For reals.
- Keeping my crazy inside. You’re gonna think you’ve hit the jackpot when I don’t get jealous or freak out when you don’t call. Really I’m keeping my crazy inside so I don’t scare you off. But be careful as you’ll find out below.
- 80s song lyrics. I know an assortment from Salt-N-Pepa to the Footloose soundtrack to some Joy Division.
- Hand massages. And by hand I mean the one with five fingers. I should actually say manicures. I’ll totes soak your hands, do your cuticles and finish off with a nice buff and polish.
- Remembering to buy milk. Do not underestimate this.
- Taking off my make-up before going to bed. You’ll thank me when we’re older.
- Being nice to parents.

Things I’m bad at:

- Money. Not others which you’ll be pleased to hear. But mine. A teeny problem if we plan on having a joint account.
- Cuddling. I know I’m a bad example of the female species but I much prefer my space and love to stretch out. It’s a lot harder for me to feel comfortable if you want to spoon for several hours. I don’t fall asleep, I lie there wondering if you can feel my belly fat or whether my hair is in your face.

my perfect sleeping situation.

- Not keeping my waxing appointment. I get busy and then my favourite therapist is unavailable and I cannot just go flashing my area to just anyone and then the thought of hot wax…let’s just say there are other things I’d rather do.
- Failing to keep my crazy inside. Normally I’m quite good at it but every now and again things get too much and I go a little Courtney Love.
- Talking too much.
- Never taking out the rubbish.
- Forgetting to switch off plugs.
- Choreography. Think we’re going to have to do one of those funny Youtube wedding videos to Smack My Bitch Up because this bitch cannot waltz.
- Understanding rugby. But this won’t bother you. After all, as you’re my FB you like football.
- Eating neatly. Not a meal goes by without me spilling on my clothes or crumbs in my hair.
- Video games. Unless we’re talking about Wii. Then I kill it.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!

PostSecret Of The Week

It's kinda embarrassing to admit I have worried about where I sit on planes. But then again I did have a crazy obsession with Lost.

Glad to know I'm not the only one.

Ex-Oh! Ex-Oh!